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Post by mystique on Jul 21, 2011 23:41:00 GMT
Mystique sat out on the balcony, just looking out at the woods behind her two story house, a cup of wine in her hands as she just was rather dressed up. She was wearing a tight black dress that came to mid thigh and only showed a minimal amount of cleavage. The natural curls in her hair were a bit curlier today from the extra time she had spent on it. Some days she had nothing to do so she just relaxed and made herself up as though she was waiting for something. The elegant necklace that Christian had given her hung from her neck, the sun making the diamonds glint slightly. It had been two weeks since they had broken up for the second time in her lifetime. There was nothing but coldness to her, something that she was not sure if she would ever overcome, but now she knew why immortals became so emotionless. Her features were concealed and strong as she just crossed her legs, a pair of black stilettos on.
Life had changed for her recently and she had to come to the hardest realization that Christian would never be her soul mate, that someone had filled that place in his heart already. What was more painful is that she knew that at one point that she was the person to fill that space in his heart. There was all this time that they had been together and now everything was ruined, but it had been ruined long ago. The bitterness that filled her soul blamed fate itself, or more so the people of her alliance that forced her apart. She just took a sip of the red wine, running her fingers through her hair. Then the doorbell rang and her eyebrows furrowed as she looked through the sliding doors that led out to the balcony, listening and then she stood up, walking towards the stairs and stalked over to the door, opening it, her heals having tapped against the wood floor.
tag: Jackson
words: enough
notes: hope its okay
muse: spell - marie digby
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Post by jackson on Jul 23, 2011 23:07:45 GMT
 The past few events had been trying. He had been through more than his fair share of trials. He'd betrayed, been betrayed, forgave but did not forget. And it was wearing him down. He felt his age now. He felt older. Tired. It worried him. Such a series of dramatic events had not occurred so quickly in such a short amount of time in his life. He was usually so much safer, so much more careful. But Camille was someone easy to let your guard down around. And Aariana was a faerie: they naturally drew in mortal beings with their charms. It wasn't easy to let go of either of them, the former more so than he'd like to admit. How he had let her in, let her so close was simply horrifying. Time did not mean anything more. He knew that now. Time didn't yield forth trust. It simply didn't. And he couldn't make that mistake again. Whatever came next for him--whoever came next for him--he wouldn't trust. He would take them at their word and ready himself for any lies that he might be fed. He would be cautious. He would be himself. It wouldn't take away from the relationship, he thought. He could function just fine without trust. If anything, it would provide a solid foundation for them.
How Jackson had picked himself up, put on one of his nicer jackets and pushed his hair into something presentable, he didn't know. That he had the drive to do anything trivial was impressive. But he had found the piece of paper. The one from Mystique. And he was thrilled with the idea of speaking with her again. He wouldn't have to tell her everything that had happened: she would know. And although she wouldn't baby him and comfort him as if he was a hurt little boy, she would offer her sympathy and then drink and joke with him the whole day through. This he knew. This was someone who would make him feel better. Two lonely fools, sipping drinks and making small talk. They could plan out their trip and make believe their lives were easier than ever. Before he had left his home, he had brought a bottle of wine from his stores; a dark merlot, Petrus Pomerol. It was a gift in fact, expensive as it was. And now, he was re-gifting it, bringing it to the door step of one Mystique Dee Hewitt. He knocked and waited, grinning as he heard her footsteps. She opened the door and he took her in. Lovely as ever, she was apparently a woman who always looked good, ready for every social situation thrown at her. Holding up the bottle of wine, he inclined his head toward her, "Mademoiselle Hewitt. If you are not particularly busy I was thinking we could sit down for a chat. If you'll have me, of course. I am not pressuring you to entertain me as your guest. But whatever your decision, you may keep the wine."
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Post by mystique on Jul 23, 2011 23:50:40 GMT
Mystique had expected Christian, a sort of grimace taking over her expression before she flung open the door. She really had not wanted to see him, not right now which probably was a first for her considering how hard she had attempted looking for him and how much she had wanted them to work out. Instead, a smile replaced her grim expression as Jackson stood in front of her, holding up a bottle and she just laughed, shaking her head soflty, “What a pleasant surprise, good sir. What type of dame would I be to slam the door in your face when you come bearing gifts and good charm?” She said, walking to the side a bit, allowing him in but greeting him with a kiss to each cheek, finding the action quite cultural still. “You actually came at the perfect time because I was enjoying a glass of wine, but let me see,” she said, taking the wine bottle carefully from him. Petrus Pomerol. She abruptly stopped for a moment before continuing. “Well this is quite a gift. I don’t believe I’m so deserving of it, but I would love for you to have some. It’s quite a wine, you know?” She said, knowing he would know considering that he had had it on his hands. She was rather happy that he had come to visit considering that she felt like she was ready to set the whole city on fire for the ache that burned her heart.
“What brings you to me anyways? I hope not bad news,” she said, stepping into the kitchen, grabbing another glass as she led him back through the hallway and up the stairs. “Follow me, dear,” she beckoned as she headed back up to the balcony, pulling a chair out for him before sitting back in her own. She opened the bottle with the cork screw that was at hand and undid the cork with a resilient pop as she filled each glass, gently setting the bottle down while she handed him the other. She crossed her legs and waited for him to sit as she just gazed at him, noticing more now that he looked fairly exhausted. She did not have to hear his thoughts to know what had happened and she just sighed softly, finding it ironic how they both were in a rut. “Well, dear, you know, love will come again as it usually does. My apologies for everything that has turned for the worst,” she said, refraining from telling him anything about Christian yet, although if he had asked, she would not keep the information from him because she knew the things that had happened to him.
Tag: Jackson
Words: 449
Notes: (:
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Post by jackson on Jul 26, 2011 0:05:55 GMT
As he had hoped and expected, Mystique was more than cordial regarding his sudden visit. She looked absolutely beautiful, Jackson noted, and he needn't say so simply because she had already read this of his mind, he was sure and she must have already known how gorgeous she was. A woman simply did not live as long as she and still have the patience to fool around with something as silly as modesty. It didn't hurt at all that his company was very attractive. He rather appreciated it. A beautiful woman that had yet to betray him or be betrayed by him? It was a dream come true at this point in his life time. And he needed to tell someone, anyone, about the troubles he had so recently endured. Mystique was just that person. It would take only a minute relay the information, as she could simply delve into his mind. And then she could offer an unbiased and unemotional third person opinion. He needed someone who didn't have a flare for drama and trouble. The kisses on his cheeks were unexpected but he was unsurprised by the gesture, as it was certainly a very normal thing for a French woman to do. He found the action endearing and any tension that he might have had melted away in that moment. Waving away Mystique's worries regarding the price of the wine, Jackson laughed, "I've had it for a long while. Payment in return for a building project that I did in the estates. Very expensive indeed but I've had no one to share it with. I'll gladly do so with you."
And so he followed her, glancing about the home as he did, finding it slightly regal in addition to being subtly feminine. It was a lady's house, that much was certain, but a lady with an appreciation of robust furniture and ornate décor. Exceedingly lovely and decades in the making, he was sure. Following her up the stairs, he continued to look casually about and then was thrilled by the existence of a balcony up top. Following her to it, he made a point of allowing the recent events to flow freely in his mind, giving her access to all the information that was necessary before sitting down. He took from her the glass of wine as it was presented to him and he stared out from the balcony for awhile, letting her words wash over him. Yes, he wasn't worried about the idea of love. Love presented itself quite often throughout life. He'd been in love various times. There was no worry about finding it again. But losing it in such a way and to two women at once, well, it caused one's head to spin round. Taking a seat, he sipped from his glass and nodded once, "No apology needed. I acted foolishly. In ways that an adolescent would. I found myself caught up in the suddenness of it all. I pretended to be young again. I pretended that I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I was not myself. Romance has a dastardly way of twisting a being's mind. It makes us act in ways that we would be utterly ashamed of were we in a more sensible state of thought."
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Post by mystique on Jul 26, 2011 4:10:22 GMT
Mystique smiled, quite flattered by his thoughts about her beauty and she found that beauty came with a price, so what was hers? Then her expression grew concerned, and she attempted to keep herself from becoming insulted. “I hope you’re wrong. I hope I would never betray you and that you in turn would never do so either. I won’t say we’re perfect or anyone for that matter, but I hope never to do that to you,” she said continuing to venture throughout her house. She smiled a bit when he was comforted and relaxed a bit. “In fact, I hope to do the opposite which is make that dream of yours real for you since every other woman seems to have failed,” she said, smirking a bit, just flashing him a mischievous gaze. She wanted to lighten the mood a bit, but she knew he was also needing some sort of advice, but perhaps she would not be the best, but she would account to her wisdom. “Well, thank you for entrusting me with such a privilege,” she said, thoroughly pleased with the fact that he had come to her about this, needing to talk with him once more.
His words sunk in as they filled her with a sense of thoughtfulness, never heard it put quite that way before, but rephrased in many different texts that she had read. There was a moment of silence that passed between them before her gaze caught his, obviously full of thought before she spoke, “You are indeed right, but it has brought you here, and allowed you to learn something new. If there was something I had to take away from the many relationships I have been in, it was that there is always something to learn. If there is nothing, then it was meaningless. Love has its way of creeping in and knocking us to the ground. I’m still learning and perhaps it’s a lifelong learning process. Just remember that, but also remember that there is someone out there for everyone, even if the person never realizes it. Love may make us weak, but it is strong and the power of life itself,” She explained, hand gestures accompanying her words as she just focused on him.
Mystique just paused, gazing at him as she just straightened up. “I know where you are and I’m trying to pick myself up. I recently had broken up with what I thought had been my soul mate so long ago for the second time. Separation for those in love fractures it like a perfectly healthy bone and it never heals. I thought a second try at the love that we once had would continue to blossom, but it appears he fell for someone else,” she said, keeping the emotion from her tone, just gazing at him, a strength in her eyes as she just took a drink of the wine.
Tag: Jackson
Words: 486
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Post by jackson on Jul 26, 2011 23:58:28 GMT
He had noted her sudden outburst about his thoughts of betrayal and was a bit shocked that she clung so quickly to the idea. Somehow she must had been wronged and with the way she reacted, it must have been recent. But he did not think anything or question her in regards to it. He wouldn't pry; not quite yet. They needed to drink, loosen their tongues. And their thoughts. It would allow for an easier conversation. They were the kind of people that functioned in a much less stressed way if alcohol were involved. It calmed them. Soothed them. Made socializing--something that they both had a fantastic grasp on as it was--simpler. Perhaps they were alcoholics. A mild form of alcoholism, anyways. It never interfered with his work or day to day life, really. So he didn't think of himself as ever having a problem. And he didn't know Mystique long enough to knew how much she drank. But she had had a drink in her hand both times he had spoken with her which Jackson took as a good sign that she was of the same sort of fiber as he. Built of the same stuff, appreciating a good glass of wine or a mug of beer whenever the mood struck. Especially when among good company.
Jackson strongly believed what he had just said. Love turned people into fools. It made them act impulsively, denounce their morals and make unnecessary sacrifices. For as much good as love does, it causes a certain amount of turmoil. In his opinion, love seems to have almost sadistic tendencies. It is strongest in the face of adversity, an odd time to shine. It has horrible timing and does not discriminate against what is best or worst for its victims. It has its positives, of course. The world would not consider love to be the thing it is if it did not. Jackson tore himself away from his own reasoning to listen then to Mystique as she said her piece. He nodded frequently sipping from his glass slowly, languidly, reveling in the contrasting flavors of bitter and sweet, slightly unsure of the direction that the conversation was turning. He didn't need to be lectured in love. He knew already that there were lessons to be learned and what not. He knew very well. But he allowed Mystique to continue and he kept his thoughts in agreement with her own words which was simple to do, considering the fact that he did indeed agree with her.
Allowing her to sympathize with him, Jackson ran a hand through his hair and stared off of the balcony. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said finally, "I can't imagine losing the same person twice. I've never given one person a second chance. I've always believed in a single opportunity. If it didn't work out the first time I doubt highly that things have changed so greatly that it would work out the second time around. But as it is, that's just me being a pessimist." Suddenly, he looked back at the woman and half-smiled, raising his glass toward her, "To the two newest readmissions to the lonely hearts club. May our stay be short and if it be long may the wine be plenty.'
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Post by mystique on Jul 27, 2011 1:50:30 GMT
Her words simply seemed to have caught him off guard as she had not really realized how emotionally struck they were, but she just gazed at him, knowing he had deciphered the fact that she was hurt and bleeding much like he was. Alcohol seemed to be the answer in his mind and it was in hers as well. It would make her less emotional towards the words that came inside her head in her heart and would allow her to freely speak. She did drink quite a bit, but she had a high tolerance, but perhaps that was because she drank quite often, especially being nearly 2000 years old. Then, when she had gone into a small rant over love, she just realized again the emotions coming out in her tone, but she just held her tongue to say anymore simply because he knew this very well. “I’m sorry, dear. I suppose there was no need for those words, but maybe if not for your sake for mine,” she said, trying to figure out if she had more said them for herself than just for him. His ideas of love were correct, but in a sense seemed so one sided, but it was understandable in a case like his and she just sympathized in a way. Perhaps, he did not want to sympathize or want her sympathy like a large group of people did.
She listened to his words and felt as thought he was far better in the way he handled relationships, but she could also see that as a small problem. People barely change and she had noticed that over the years, even as a country people make the same mistakes. Maybe she ought to have been like that with Christian, although she thought in a sense that they deserved a second shot at this. She had obviously been wrong after everything and it pained her, the pit of her stomach burning with pain. “Maybe you are smarter in that sense, even if it is a pessimistic view,” she said, admiring him slightly as she just mused over that a bit more. She definitely ought to live more so by this, but then the question lingered that what if they had actually changed in a rare circumstance. Now she thought about Christian and how they both fell back into their relationship like nothing had happened and knew instantly that she was wrong. “You’re right,” she simply said as she took a drink of her wine, her tone full of thought as she just brushed a thumb over the edge of the glass slowly.
Then, he made an elegant toast that seemed to express the situation they were in, her glass clashing gently with his into a echoing ‘clink’. She just felt like this was something she had always wanted, someone who viewed things in the same light and who was willing to converse about different issues that crossed their lives. “Hmm, so I propose in about two weeks, we take a trip to Lyon, France. Would you be interested? I figured would could use this to mark a change and to set us in a new direction,” she said, the idea rather sudden in her mind, but she was confident that this was possible. She would make plans tomorrow in the morning, already knowing he would say yes, but she still needed to hear the words from him in case he had changed since the short time between the last time they had met.
Tag: Jackson
Words: 587
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Post by jackson on Jul 28, 2011 9:16:56 GMT
It was odd. Having to put a rein on one's thoughts. Having to hold back or restrain oneself from thinking of certain things in order to maintain some amount of peace or privacy. It was very difficult, actually. He supposed that he didn't need to hide much. Jackson didn't believe that Mystique was after him. He didn't think that she had any reason to hurt him or want to hurt him. Of course, he thought the same about Camille and look where that had gotten him? But Camille was an entirely different creature. Old, but foolish, stubborn and impulsive. This woman in front of him, she was learned. Patient. She didn't have a need to toy around with her victims. If she had wanted Jackson dead and gone or hurt in some way, it would have been done by now. Immortals didn't need to draw out things like that nor did they possess the emotion required to desire long and drawn out things like torture. They wanted the end result. So it was safe to assume that Mystique was just as interested in Jackson as a person as he was interested in getting ot know her.
Nodding at Mystique's apology and damning himself for having 'thought out loud,' he shrugged it off, "Don't worry your pretty head over it. Sometimes it good for ourselves to hear out loud what we already know. Makes one more sure of oneself. There's less doubt in that way. I don't begrudge you your right to speak about anything at all, Mysique." It seemed as if they were on extremely equal ground, the two of them. They had so much to offer each other intellectually, Jackson's knowledge coming from forced education and Mystique's from experience. They were well-informed and knowledgeable of a good many things in life. While Mystique had just offered him a good piece of advice, he had given her another. Both had thought on what the other had said and both had been better off for it. Jackson hated, in this case, to be right. But it couldn't be helped. It just seemed to always be the case. People didn't change much at all. It took frightening, life threatening experiences for a change to even begin to occur and even then there was a danger that someone would go back to their old ways. No. True change was hard to come by indeed.
Their toast was sweet. Brief. And Jackson smiled, taking a sip from his glass and reveling in the nearness of such an incredible woman. He felt at ease. Calm. Even as they spoke of these things, of love lost and of love missed, he did not feel particularly saddened. He felt very much at peace in Mystique's company and it was quite refreshing. The woman suddenly made an offer to Jackson that he was not inclined to refuse. His grin widened and he raised his glass enthusiastically. "Ah, yes. I was secretly wishing that you would remember your promise to steal me away with you. And two weeks: a perfect amount of time to square things away at the workplace. I'll leave out plans and some general guidelines for my substitute and things will be just fine. He'll be entirely grateful for the temporary pay raises as it is so I don't believe there will be any complaints." Pausing to take another sip, Jackson shook his head slowly, incredulously, "Me in France. A country associated with so much beauty. With passion. With love. Be careful, Miss Hewitt--a man could very well come to believe that you're trying to seduce him. A woman on the rebound, searching for someone to provisionally fill the hole in her heart until it beats the right way again." He laughed and poured himself another glass, his first having just been emptied.
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Post by mystique on Jul 28, 2011 21:11:04 GMT
Mystique was slightly concerned by his thoughts, but as he continued to deduct that she would have been short and to the point a long time ago if she wanted to kill or harm him in some way. She would remember those thoughts though because she knew they might occur in their conversation once more because she could tell he was worried as well, but not for the same reason, just for the fact that she could be hiding something. This was not something new to her really because immortals were naturally mysterious creatures because they were masters of the mind, an art that no other supernatural has. Sometimes, it truly frightened other people simply because they could not hide anything and the immortal knew their moves and intentions in every moment. She had not had one person ever successfully keep her from knowing their thoughts because most supernaturals and people did not realize what she was. There were really no outward signs of being an immortal aside from not aging whatsoever, and she knew that was bothering him, or had bothered him at one point since they met.
Mystique nodded and smiled softly at his understanding as she just simply knew this was who they both were. They talked things out loud, discussing over different situations logically, as though it was politics, and she had talked plenty of politics in her day. Right now, they were two intelligent minds conversing with each other and in a way picking each other up from what strained a hold on their lives. He was sympathizing with her in his thoughts and she knew he cared in a small way as though he had been by her side forever. She had to admit that it felt so much easier with him, like he had been with her throughout her entire life, knowing her from the inside out, although he in a sense did from the stories that she had presented to him as a fair exchange from what she read out of his mind like none other than a book. She saw his aura finding it bringing a smile to her lips as he was rather calm and perhaps he could understand how she felt about feeling so familiar with him, like they had sat and conversed over a few glasses of alcohol a thousand times.
Mystique smiled as he talked about his current job as she commented, “Well, I must do the same at the hospital I suppose.” She said, as she just looked down into the wine for a moment, finding the red liquid rather divine. She laughed at his words, shaking her head a bit as she looked at him. “Well, for you sir, let’s try not to seduce a woman while she is still falling for the beautiful country she grew up in, for a man who is in a sense recovering from two rather tense relationships. Plus, I think that if I were to seduce you, it would have been that night in the pub. I am a rather determined woman who is to the point,” she said, only teasing him back a bit before taking another drink, a little of the red alcohol lingering in her glass yet.
TAG: Jackson
WORDS: 541
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Post by jackson on Aug 1, 2011 20:18:13 GMT
Yes, he wasn't worried. She was harmless at the time. She didn't wish to hurt him. And he knew this solely because she would have done so a long time ago. It just didn't make sense for her to let him remain untouched if that were her goal. Of course, there was still the fact that he could not even begin to know what she was thinking. Jackson didn't pry, either. He enjoyed the idea of getting to know someone gradually. Just letting things come, allowing information to spill out either purposely or inadvertently. So getting to know the woman might be difficult, as she didn't find it too entirely imperative that she share everything with him. Mystique allowed him to get a hold of the major points. Some of the most important information regarding her life. Some of her past. Interests. Where she grew up. What she does. He knew just enough about her to remain comfortable. But just enough to maintain wariness. He would have to be on his feet around her. He wouldn't let someone catch him in a moment of weakness again. Not like Camille had caught him. Never again.
Familiarity. He certainly felt it with Mystique. He had felt as if he had known her for awhile from the very start. She was simply so much like him. So logical, so tranquil. She allowed life to pass by as leisurely as he did. Let it simply float by, unworried about tomorrow. She wasn't trying to rush things. To make haphazard plans and worry about what was to come someday. She was just letting things be. It was, Jackson assumed, mostly due to the fact that she probably had quite a lot of years still ahead of her. Why worry about tomorrow when she had millions of tomorrows still at her disposal? It was nice, being around someone who thought much like him. Someone who was much like him. She was what Camille could have been if the girl had taken anything at all from her years of life. But then again, perhaps he was making comparisons because he still found himself thinking about Camille. Wondering just what might have happened. No. It wouldn't have worked. He needed someone more level headed. More at ease. Someone who simply understood.
And he was not surprised when his mind flashed Mystique's name forward. She was beautiful. So far, she had proven to have an excellent personality and she had a sweet and serious disposition that was to die for. Someone who could speak honestly and freely, with passion but somehow without emotion. It was interesting. He found her beyond intriguing. While he sat there, he sipped at his wine, thinking on the idea of his interest in Mystique. And then it hit him. She was reading every thought. She already knew what he was considering. Jackson threw himself into their conversation, attempting to cover up his unrestrained thoughts, thoroughly ashamed that he had let his mind wander so. "Ah, yes," he laughed, "I suppose that I could tell you I find that impressive. Most of your kind tend to put a good deal of emphasis on patience. Which is nice in small doses. But there are opportunities where you just need to move forward. Take chances, perhaps. It's all well and occasionally better off when you go after the things you want when you want them, isn't it?"
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Post by mystique on Aug 2, 2011 3:22:45 GMT
Mystique found his thought process simply perfect as he continued to take things she had spoken and make his thoughts wrap around them. His thoughts were not a waste like that of most other people, but she found them important, like the key that unlocked her. She would tell him about anything with time, but time it would take because she would not spill information for no reason. She had a purpose in doing anything and everything which included releasing part of herself to him, but it would take certain moments for her to give them to him. She had certain memories that made her ache, but she knew they were memories and what pain that they had once brought her could no longer hurt her unless she sympathized with herself, but she found it pointless. Then she began wondering about this woman named Camille as she just gazed into his eyes, finding them harsh, yet completely relaxing and graceful in a sense, although he might never describe himself as graceful. He has a peace about the way he did things which she found similar to her own life.
This curiosity only seemed to heighten upon his next set of thoughts which compared her with this one other woman. There was something ancient that she had it seemed but she never took in the information. There was an obvious hurt for him that was still healing, something she could feel in his words and it pained her in a sense because she had felt that way so long ago. There was an uncertainty about this woman that obviously had been a type of lover, something rather close to him. She wanted to say so much, but if he was like her which he was turning out to be, he would know most of what she said. Part of life was learning to live up to the hardships and mistakes that came with it, although people like Camille would never learn until it was too late and indeed it had been from what it sounded. Mystique remained calm and silent, just gazing at him expressionless, obviously a sign of inward thought.
Then, what surprised her as that her name came up as an answer to his question. She just stared at him, hiding the surprise that had first come to her eyes. It was rather flattering how he spoke of her, but she felt like she partially wanted to hear them from him. Then it seemed to hit him and she just smiled softly as he moved onto some sort of conversation to distract her. She had caught this little moment of weakness though as she just simply nodded and agreed, “There is definitely a certain limit of patience before you must step in, but it obviously differs upon the situation,” she said, finishing her glass of wine as she started pouring her third quietly, leaving his thoughts to sink in. She would keep them, using them for later when she could or perhaps she would allow them to come back once again. “Hmm,” She thought, seeing the bottle already half gone as she just smirked and her eyes flickered to Jackson. Alcohol for them would be like water, but she was prepared for more just in case he wanted to continue to drink. “May I ask a question about Camille, Jackson? I hope I will not be prying too far, but if it is, just say and I won’t ask any further,” she said, giving him a serious expression, knowing that she ought not to ask, but simply wanted in a way to help or figure out why things had turned back or if he was going back to her.
TAG: Jackson
WORDS: 620
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Post by jackson on Aug 4, 2011 0:32:33 GMT
It was funny. He was not consciously monitoring his thoughts. Not significantly, anyway. He had always thought like this, preferring not to waste even precious brain power on silly things. That Mystique was appreciating his thought processes was completely beyond him. He would never guess, never realize that she found his mind so satisfying. Then again, he would not be surprised if she said something about it, being that he knew that he had more of a capacity for thought than any young person would. Interesting framework of the mind was mostly due to experience and in part, age. He had both on his side, having taken many things from life in his thirty-nine years. Of course his mind was going to be interesting. Not only was the subject matter much more intriguing but the method of how he maneuvered all of those thoughts around was more established. More organized. It was a shame that he could not monitor thoughts as well and sift through them, inspecting the differences between everyone's stream of consciousness.
Graceful. That would have been a new one had he heard it spoken aloud. Jackson had never been called graceful. Not his face. But a good deal of people did think that his mannerisms and movements all carried an element of grace, certainly. This was perhaps attributed to spending his youngest years among his mother, picking up the elegance that she had exuded when his father wasn't anywhere to be seen. It was funny that Mystique was noticing all these things. Just funny in the way that said something was interesting. A coincidence, perhaps. Ironic. And she was such an incredible listener, he thought now. So attentive. And in a sense, she was multitasking the whol while, reading his thoughts in addition to taking in his words. He adored her attention. Her genuine interest in everything that he had to say and think. It was astounding that someone such as her would find him worth hearing.
Perhaps she listened too well. With how Mystique caught so many of his words, he knew that she had heard his previous thoughts. And he wouldn't deny them. He would not try and backtrack, especially not within his own mind. But he would not address his thoughts of her unless she herself did so first. At least, not for right now. It was simply a fleeting idea. A notion of the two of them that wasn't completely farfetched. But it was early on. Too early on. And so he would not mention it. Not right now. Not unless there was something that suggested more. As Mystique reached to fill her glass, Jackson was just finishing his own. Picking up the bottle after she'd set it down, he poured his glass slowly. He'd just finished when she asked her question and he had to admit that he was surprised. Most women didn't like to talk about other women. And then he remembered Mystique as an exception. Someone who had no reason to be jealous of other females. Setting down the bottle, Jackson nodded, "Of course. Ask away. I'm an open book, very literally to you, as it is."
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Post by mystique on Aug 4, 2011 1:31:54 GMT
Mystique found his reaction to her calling him graceful a bit amusing, but then it sounded like he had gotten that from many other people in the past. Something he had picked up from his mother which he seemed to regard with a certain amount of endearment. Then he remarked on the fact that she was listening closely through his thoughts which he seemed to regard. She supposed that she listened much, but it was natural to her to hear so many thoughts, finding the inner person in someone. There were people that were rather despicable to the core, much like Damon. “Why would you think so little of yourself?” She asked him as he finished his thoughts of how she found him so interesting and she was a bit fascinated. “People don’t think like that. At least, you’re the first one I’ve met really,” she said as she just simply brushed her hand over her glass slowly.
Mystique just smirked a bit as he told himself that he would remain honest about his thoughts. Honestly, either way she would have brought them up in time and would have held them against him if she must. Then, she was catching him by surprise again it seemed with her interest in Camille, but she did not bring this to attention out of jealousy, but rather pure curiosity. There was nothing wrong with simplistic curiosity rather with curiosity that consumed every fiber of a person’s being. There was a certain unhealthy level, but she always remained relaxed and collected. He did make a point, but she wanted to know about this. “What exactly happened? Your thoughts consisted of telling that she had changed. Also, just to straighten something is that you compared me to her in the sense that she is far less mature. Exactly how?” She asked him softly as she waited a moment, recalling some of his thoughts and grouping them in smaller categories. Then she once again relished the wine, this glass going a bit quicker as their conversation continued, but she poured herself another glass at some point.
The alcohol was beginning to dull her senses, but she still had the logical arrangement of thoughts, but she felt herself tingle slightly with the warmth. The sun was setting now as she just briefly gazed out at the calm view, just finding this moment irreplaceable. That was when she realized it must be eight in the afternoon and she looked back at Jackson. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight. I’d feel more comfortable if you did so,” she said, smiling softly as she thought about this considering that they would be rather gone in a daze throughout this following conversation. She had quite a few bedrooms for him if he wished, but part of her wanted him to stay with her, the thought crossing her mind. The idea that this was wrong crossed her thoughts, but she would soon forget the common sense to stop herself from lusting after him. They both shared a desire for the other which made the idea much more tempting, but surely they were much more elegant than that. Or not.
TAG: Jackson
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Post by jackson on Aug 4, 2011 9:24:00 GMT
She was sifting through his thoughts, putting together pieces. Jackson didn't feel violated. He felt honored. Pleased that she wanted to know more about him. Pleased that she wished to find out what he thought about her. It was so terribly interesting, all of it. He was curious what being immortal would be like. Hearing each other's thoughts, never having to speak a word as a result. It was all so intriguing. And then Mystique had broken the contemplation with a question that had Jackson raising his brows. "Ah, no, no. I don't think little of myself at all. I am an excellent man. In good shape, in good state of mind," he paused, trying to defend himself against what was essentially himself. Him against his thoughts. It seemed so silly. "If you ever catch me seemingly belittling myself, I am not looking down on the person I am, per se. I am taking into consideration my decisions, the things that I've done. Judging by my actions a good deal of people would not want to speak with me, let alone get to know who I am. That isn't how I believe it should be but this is the way of the human race; quick to judge and faster still to condemn. I guess I've simply grown used to it."
Talking about Camille in the company of Mystique was slightly disconcerting. If felt as if he was betraying Camille's trust to a complete stranger. But in his defense, Mystique could find out no matter what. As long as she made him think about her, she would eventually find out. And that's how he could defend himself if Camille was ever affronted by his sharing of their story. "Changed. She did change. Before that, before everything, she had betrayed me. Told me she loved me. Essentially tricked me into leaving the girl I was with for her only to cast me aside. Soon after all of the confrontation the man who had turned her; he found her again. He was a sick man, Mystique. Consumed by a need for revenge. And he hurt her. Badly." Jackson paused and reached up to the collar of his shirt, pulling it down to expose the two faint marks on his neck. "I let her feed from me. She needed it terribly. It was... emotionally draining. I had already given her my heart; now I was to give her my blood too?" Shaking his head, he downed the rest of the wine in his glass, letting the empty glass dangle in his fingertips. "She had changed. She finally let William change her. She let him take away what was essentially Camille. And in regards to the comparisons, I don't mean to be rude.
Camille is an amazing woman. She just hasn't taken anything from her years lived on earth. Her age is impressive. The lessons she's seemed to learn are less so. It's as if she can't grow up. William's turned her into a child. But you, Mystique. You've taken from your experiences. You've grown into an intelligent and resourceful person. Beautiful and cunning in your survival. There aren't many that could come against you and walk away unscathed." Jackson shrugged and emptied the little bit of wine in the bottle into his glass. "I hope you aren't offended by the comparisons. You are not Camille. Not in the slightest. You are an entity you’re your own. A separate being of impressive composition. If anything, after having met you, I feel as if I should say that Camille reminds me of a less mature and more temperamental you as opposed to you reminding me of her." There was a lapse in conversation and then Jackson added, "But of course I'll stay. It would be foolish of me to refuse."
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Post by mystique on Aug 5, 2011 0:55:45 GMT
Mystique smiled softly, finding it a bit comforting that he was just allowing her to pick through his thoughts without being emotionally distraught about it. He seemed to take delight that she even considered him and responded on his thoughts. There was a curiosity about the immortal in her, as though he was asking how it would be to be in her place. She was honestly not sure how she had come up with the idea to trade her soul for her life, but it was more like a strong desire for her imagination to be able to murder the men that put her family through hell and back. When he responded to her, she smirked a bit, thinking about all that he said and maybe he had partially belittled himself, but only to correct himself. She just continued to listen to his explanation as she studied his eyes a bit, finding nothing wrong with the words, but she had definitely found an essence of who he is through his thoughts, based on his words. “Well, if it comforts you, I am here and will be here, but perhaps it takes one type of person to see the other,” she said, thinking about her past and knowing how some people would judge her quickly for the ‘sins’ she had committed which is what most people would group her actions within.
Mystique was fairly close to calling off the conversation that was about to sit between them. There was an array of thoughts and emotions that fluttered through Jackson’s head that she calmly took into consideration. An obvious connection and bond was still held between Camille and Jackson, one that he wanted to continue to behold as something sacred. Then, he brought the argument into account, considering her ability to hear his thoughts which she would hear either way. Mystique just listened silently to his story over her, then her attention was caught on the fang marks that scarred his skin. It seemed to her that he regretted part of everything that he had been involved in with this woman, but she was not a woman, but a vampire. Then, the conversation changed once again, but this time it altered to the comparison that she had questioned about. The comparisons were simple and seemed to fit his thoughts accordingly between the two of them.
Mystique thought about his words, collecting some of her own as she always did, never rushing to say anything unless it was a simplistic answer. “Perhaps, William doing this to her is unfair, but it will bring her to learn. I know from times in my life, I’ve grown simply from the worst times. Maybe she will change, no matter how long it has taken for her to mature even in the slightest,” she said as then she smiled a bit, finishing her glass of wine. She had noticed they finished the bottle of wine as she just easily stood up, feeling slightly dizzy, but nothing that would make her fall over. “Come, love. I have some other wine if you would like some more,” she said, taking her glass and the empty bottle as she just began to walk down through the hallway and carefully down the steps as she walked towards the dining room where a wall was lined with quite a few different wines. “Now, I know I have a selection, but go ahead and take a look. Pick anything you find you would like to have or try for that matter,” she said feeling a bit more like an alcoholic, but she did appreciate a good drink, and at least a glass of wine in the evening.
TAG: Jackson
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Post by jackson on Aug 10, 2011 3:48:27 GMT
Of course there was a curiosity regarding her immortality. Immortals were not like vampires, who he had befriended in surplus. He couldn't say that he knew any other immortal on such a personal level. Mystique was the first. So of course he would be curious. Of course he would have questions. And he'd ask them in good time. As of now, he wanted to establish a comfort with her. An easy friendship of sorts. Or more? No. He couldn't just jump up from his place on the ground where Camille had thrown him. Not so quickly. Right? It would be indecent. Then again, was Jackson all that decent of a person in the first place? He didn't continue to dwell on the idea. It was something that should never be bothered with, trying to corral something like feelings into an appropriate time frame. He wouldn't rush or obstruct any actions of his, intoxicated or otherwise. Going with the flow was always the best option. You needed guidelines. Occasionally rules and restrictions, of course. But nothing set in stone. No plans. No ill thought-out spontaneity. Nodding his agreement with Mystique's statement, he continued to sip at his wine, waiting for the feelings that usually accompanied alcohol.
It was almost tiring, talking about Camille. Their back and forth had been so consuming. And now, he had to deal with the after shock of it all. But it would be good for him. Good to get it out. It was easier to forgo emotions that way. To cut them off entirely by releasing every thought from his overcrowded mind. Sure, he wanted something resembling a sacred and unique relationship for Camille and himself. It was only natural to want to have something special with the first woman who had truly broken his heart. He wanted there to be a friendship unmatched by any other. There had to be or else he was convinced that he would go absolutely insane. Convinced that such a significant event was a waste of time. That she was a waste of time. Of his heart. The idea would kill him. That he had so easily let someone as indifferent to his feelings as she destroy him. So a friendship between the two was imperative. He would always protect her. They would be like siblings. The implications of the concept border lined on incest, of course. But that was in the past. Things would be different now.
Mystique showed a confidence in Camille that Jackson shared: she would have to get it eventually. Immortality would always lead to some sort of enlightenment. When you had all of the time in the world, you would eventually be hit with an epiphany. He appreciated the fact that Mystique didn't talk down to Camille, as if there was reason for her to reserve judgment. It was nice, having someone to speak with who didn't make too much fuss about judging those around her. Suddenly, Mystique remarked on the need for more alcohol and Jackson stood gladly, following her into the home. As she gestured to her stores, he took a long look before settling on a rather nice pinot noir. He surveyed the bottle, giving Mystique a nod and a smile before back out to the balcony. Grabbing the opener, he leaned up against the fence of the balcony and removed the cork from the bottle. He smiled and held the bottle up, calling for Mystique, "Come and give this one a try, love." Feeling suddenly rather childish, Jackson situated himself on top of the banister, took the bottle with a silly grin and tipped it backward into his mouth. It was like a young boy drinking directly from the milk carton and he stopped for a laugh, holding it out toward Mystique, a fogginess clouding his pride and logic. "Forget the glasses . No one else is around. We'll act like drunk fools and drink away our troubles, just for tonight. We can forget the rest of the world and its conduct."
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